By the time they figure out what went wrong, we'll be sitting on a beach earning...

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By the time they figure out what went wrong, we'll be sitting on a beach earning...

“Will this dining room be to your liking, Master Breaker?” The Lyridian innkeeper rubbed her palms together nervously and tugged at a loose thread splintering from her otherwise neat sifan blouse. Even in the floating city above Lornius proper where the wealthiest xenophobes lived, it was rare for an innkeeper to make good enough coin to afford sifan. Josh had selected The Russet Apple for that exact reason. He hadn’t seen his friend Shinsou Vaan Osiris in some time, and wanted them to enjoy a good, peaceful meal together with no hijinks or tomfoolery, or Thayneslaying or syndicate dismantling. Just a nice hot meal with some top-shelf whisky and good conversation.

“Hmm,” Breaker said, pacing around the room, his metal boots ringing on the polished wood floor. He examined the intricately carved and sanded tables and chairs, sniffed at the artwork on the wall depicting flowers and landscapes, and ran a finger along the mantle as if checking for dust.

“This will suffice,” he said at last, “but only for half of your regular asking price. I’m only having one guest, after all, hardly a full party. And you didn’t exactly break your back cleaning the place.” He rubbed his finger and thumb together as if scattering dust. “Besides, I’d think that my patronage would be a boon in itself. How often does a Thayneslayer grace one of your tables?”

The innkeeper took a deep breath that swelled her already generous bosom. She smoothed her sifan shirt over a slightly rotund belly and nodded nervously.

“It is certainly an honor to have you and Vaan Osiris grace our tables. Very well, I accept your offer, on the condition that when you return to experience our excellent service again, you will pay full price. And that you’ll tell all your well-to-do friends that The Russet Apple is the finest establishment in all of Lornius.”

“You have my word,” Josh said, a twinkle shining in his eyes. The red embers of a dying sun limped through the beige shade on the window, coloring the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks. “Please send Shinsou up here when he arrives. In the meantime… I’ll take a glass of Yurik’s Firewhisky, over ice please. And… what was that special appetizer I saw listed on the menu?”

“Mushrooms on the half-cap, sir. We just got a shipment of fresh shrooms from Dheathain, and battered and fried they make for quite an amuse-bouche. Shall I send up an order?”

“Make it two,” Josh said, “I’m feeling peckish.” The demigod turned to look out the second story window at the setting sun. He could not wait to relax in the ambience of good company and conversation.

Lornius was a brutal place; the last time Storm had been through town left him badly wounded but much richer for the journey. In this little trip, he itched for the simplicity of exploiting two elements of the town left altogether unexplored in his last venture: free cash and good smokes. He would need to earn quite a bit of coin to cover the journey from the mainland to the sky-city, but it felt like cash was poured so freely here that a penny-wise grifter could retire in weeks. These people had power, cash, and very little attention to detail.

As Attila was tied taut to a thick bench post in the front of the large stone-laid inn, Storm glanced up at the thatch roof and smiled as he ripped in the odor of stew pouring from the window. Fresh, thick stew maid from new, healthy animals was as hearty and warming as food got, and the wizard opened the door with an eager toe, smiling at the bell-chime above the door.

If you're going to float a city, maybe ship in some varied woods first?

The bar at the base floor at the inn was covered from floor to ceiling in paneling, a mid-range teak color that was well-knotted and altogether depressing. The tabletops, stools, and benches also adorned a similar woodgrain, which cloyed the mage before he could grab a seat at the bar. A bright eyed little bald man quickly swung by, a friendly greeting and short conversation which ended with a healthy glass of mead poured into a mug over a single large cube of ice.

Can't beat a cold drink, I suppose. Where's the smoke-man in here? Can a man get some leaves in this joint?!

As if on command, a very thin man at the edge of the bar sauntered over, brandishing a large and wholly suspicious smile. Storm had traveled long and wasn't game for much of the trivialities.

"You carry tobacco? Just came up into town and your customs folk seized all my leaves. Trust me when i tell you this city doesn't want my fingers getting twitchy."

Patently ignorant to what critical information he had just heard, the slender salesman pushed forward.

"Tobacco, oak clove, devil's breath and wiggle-leaf. Has to stay in town, and keep the kids away. Hell, we even sample for travelers; what town did you say you were from?"

"I didn't." Storm eyed the suspicious fellow unflinchingly, very unsure of his boldness. "But it's Radasanth. Shit-hole of milk and honey, as they call it. Never heard of your exotics down there, but I AM an adventurer. What's the 'wiggle leaf' all about?"

The frail distributor put an arm around the shoulders of the wizard, entirely blind to the risks he chose to assume. Uncomfortable, Storm felt his spine straighten as he locked in on the chatty stranger. Was this a trap?

"It's a wiggle on your tongue, and a wiggle for the mind. Delicious, smooth, and the ride is worth the price of admission. Take a pinch; it's twenty crowns for a cube if you like it."

The gypsy dropped some of the dark green leaves into Storm's palm, the electromancer noticing immediately the oily texture of the jagged-edged leaves. This was a bizarre plant, something he decided it unwise to trust but too interesting to ignore. An appreciative smile was joined with a leering stare as he chased off the dealer, pushing the leaves into a small burlap pocket that Lornian customs had seen fit to free of his precious tobacco.

Fantasizing of his pending adventure, Storm's eyes were tripped by the wave of high-chest meat that floated down the stairs from the top floor, surrounded totally by what appeared to be a wealthy woman.

It was a rather odd situation to be in, but today, on Shinsou Vaan Osiris's orders, the Brotherhood's priorities had switched from developing and nurturing the power of its military junta to clearing out what appeared to be a sudden feline pandemic.

The fuckers were everywhere. Shinsou had woken up, still hung over from the night before, to find his quarters brimming with all types of bastard varieties of cats. Salvic forest ragdolls, Coronian shorthairs and even Raiaeran blues meandered around the marble tiles of his room like they owned the place.

"What the fuck is this?"

Arius, Shinsou's right hand man and usually the man with all the answers, must of been eavesdropping through the door. As he turned the handle and crept the oaken door slightly ajar, a scuffle ensued between a fat ginger Alerarian lesser spotted domino cat and a rather peturbed Coronian shorthair.

"Morning. Yeah, cats. Cats everywhere. That small issue aside..." The scholarly man continued with almost no explanation of the current situation at hand forthcoming, "...don't forget you have a date with Joshua Cronen in Lornius."

"Don't call it that." Shinsou retorted, scruffing a Radasanthian tomcat and relieving it of its position on his amazingly clean white greatcoat. "Are we going by portal? I'd love to stay and help sort this cat thing out but, actually, I'd rather have type two diabetes, you know."

"Oh, sure thing. How else were you expecting to get to Lornius in an hour from Corone?" Ariud raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno. Liquid time?" Shinsou jested, referencing pages from Arius's studies about the physics of the time space continuum. He grimaced as a Etherian scrufflekitty tried to claw its way up the new silk curtains.

"Oh shut up." With a snap of his fingers, Arius opened a portal that tore the room a new arsehole. Thirteen small felines tried to swat at the thin blue membrane as it pulsed and rippled, but to their astonishment they were sucked in, lost their footing and fell into the ether in which existed only a plethora of interdimensional gateways leading to other worlds made entirely of ham.

Do you know the indignities of gargling orc piss? Do you REALLY know the indignities of gargling orc piss? Do you know how it swills around in your mouth, filling the gaps between every tooth? Do you know the foul stench as it dribbles down your face and in to your involuntarily awaiting lips? Do know the warmth it shares with your throat as you guzzle down that alcohol infused bladder juice?

Do you?

Nope? Me neither, but it made for an interesting dream last night. I must have drank some neat shit.

Imagine a bright sunny day, birds and flowers and stuff, you know? The air is that blissful temperature we all love so much, the kind that fourty-something mothers fantasize about whilst pushing the next carton of milk through the checkout. Yeah, that's right, that warmth, imaginary holiday warm, the good shit. The smell of honeysuckle in the air, a cool breeze washing over your pale ass bitch self as you close your eyes and fantasize in that moment that it will never end. This is perfection, your day can't be any better, even the laughter of children harks to happier times.

Bitch, please. Snap to reality. What did you think this was, a fucking chick flick? Get outta here.

Nope, last night was a dreary fucking Tuesday in some fucking forest like every other fucking day. The air smells of animal feces and is the lovely kind of water-laden bullshit that soaks your clothes though just because screw you, that's why. This is a realistic day in the life of a wandering elemental spirit (that was me in this dream) that has about as much of an idea of where he's going as a blind man in a fun house getting pelted in the face by protruding rubber clad foam pillars.

With this in mind, let's cut to the chase. I was bolting through the forest with some actual, genuine grace, practiced steps bounding me about from fallen tree trunk to moss covered rock with nary a foot misplaced. My light frame moved with utmost ease; my motions swift and precise.

That is, until they weren't, and I hook my foot under a heavy fallen branch, slamming face first in to a pile of wet mud.

With a groan, out I pop. Filthy dirt covered hands rise up in protest to wipe away a bunch of the slimy dirt in what can only be described as a frustrated tantrum. I was wet through, cold as a result and now had the complexion of a hungry hobo coming face-to-face with a chocolate fountain. Great. Fucking GREAT. After removing most of the slop from my features, I stand completely still, throwing my arms around willy nilly in what could only be compared to a hooker in the backseat of Storm Veritas's love wagon.

"Double post".

"What?" The Telgradian replied, confused.

"Look...double post." Arius repeated, jabbing a finger into the translucent liquid transporting them rapidly through the timespace continuum. Ahead of them, two wooden posts jutted out from the moss covered Lornian pavement, marking the entrance to the social quarter of the floating city.

"Oh."

"What's the matter?" Arius's eyes poured over the Telgradian, drinking in his mood.

The last dying rays of crimson light faded over the distant horizon the floating city’s altitude provided. Josh watched through The Russet Apple’s translucent curtains, sipping scotch and nibbling on fried mushrooms. They had an earthy flavor that went well with the ricemeal breading and the smoky motes in the whisky. The demigod’s eyes saw far and deep, and his ears sought out even the faintest noises in the furthest reaches of the inn. He had long since grown used to this constant awareness, and it did not only extend to his ordinary senses. He could, for example, easily pinpoint the fire-mage sitting at the bar downstairs, as well as the fortune teller alone in a corner.

With such unrelenting knowledge came massive responsibility. If he so desired, Josh could have blackmailed half the people in the building, having overheard theirs secrets. The man fucking the whore in the privy liked to remind himself, rather loudly, that the woman he ploughed was not his wife. The head server was stealing from the float of tips regularly, but in truth she probably deserved the coin for the long hours she put in. Breaker had long ago decided never to interfere unless he was protecting someone from bodily harm, enslavement, or loss of significant property. Fortunately he had sensed no danger that demanded his attention, and so he enjoyed the good food and drink, and the beautiful sun-swept view.

Little did he know, the Dheathic mushrooms contained a dormant psychoactive property which activated under extreme heat and was fat soluble. It had been cooked straight into the amuse-bouche.

As time wore on Breaker appeared to become restless. He paced, he leaped casually over the table and back again, he performed a one armed handstand - all while sipping his drink.

A server came in, a young man who started to say something and then gaped at the updside down demigod.

“Do you know how many one-armed handstand pushups I can do?” Josh asked.

The server studied the man before him and then ventured a guess. “A hundred?”

“That was a rhetorical question, I don’t know either. Only one way to find out!” Breaker set his drink on the floor and began exercising with military precision, pressing his entire body weight up and down using only his left arm. His right he tucked firmly behind his back. A growing smile washed his face as he breathed easily through his nose.

“I uh... “ the server stammered. “Can I get you anything? Your guests have yet to arrive.”

“Who said anything about guests?” Breaker asked without breaking rhythm. “It was just Shinsou. Is he bringing someone? Is there a message?”

“What?” The server cried. “N-no, sir, I just misspoke is all. I meant guest. He’ll be sent up as he arrives.”

“Good,” Josh said, continuing his press-ups, “he really should try these mushroom poppers. Send up another order. Hey!” He cried, bounding to his feet and crushing the nearly empty glass he’d left there. “How fast do you think I can run around the entire floating city? Start counting!” He tore out of the inn, leaving a man-shaped hole in the second-story external wall.

“Right,” the server said, “more mushrooms, more mushrooms…” he repeated to himself as he exited the room.

The Russet Apple was much more of a cliquey pub these days despite its reputation for being one of Lornius's more social establishments. Keen to keep the right kind of punters between the sticks for as long as possible, the landlord had spared no expense to do just that. Fine new furniture, a bandstand, shiny new brass oil lanterns, some actual entertainment and the best Lornian ales all formed part of the package a drinker in the Apple could expect to sign up to when they strode in from the cold.

It also differed in that the inn served as a place on could obtain slightly unorthadox cuisine.

An alert and vulnerable Arius looked on over Shinsou's shoulder as the Telgradian led him through the ground floor, past the an area known as the vault and then the main bar before turning left to go up the stairs. A burly looking bouncer, with hands the size of anvils, momentarily moved to block their passage but then seemed to recognise Osris’s face and stepped back.

"Joshua is waiting for you upstairs."

“Stay here,” Shinsou commanded his counterpart, "...and get very drunk."

There wasn’t much in the way of a protest from the man, so Shinsou closed and locked the door behind him as he left. The guard looked up the stairs at Osiris, who gave him a nod.

“What's the main course?”

“Dhethain Mushrooms".

Shinsou stared at him. "Awesome.”

***

Like a mountaineer negotiating a tricky outcrop, Shinsou sized up the Joshua shaped hole in the wall, worked out what he was going to say when he got back from whatever the fuck he was doing, composed himself and selected a mushroom from the steaming hot cuisine in front of him.

"You here to join the other two fellas? Couple 'uh suspect gents, look right rip for buggery with the likes of you. I'm fucking #done with them." The buxom lady who had descended the stairs certainly had a certain hatred for discretion. Storm was put off by her homophobia, but forgave her for her enormous tits.

"Sorry to disappoint, sweetie, but I'm not the buggering type. Half-deer women, sure, but touch a man? Not my speed, sugar."

The talking boobs directed him upstairs, rolling her eyes as if she didn't believe him. Perhaps this inn was known to attract a more specific traveler. Veritas wasn't one for judgment regarding how people spent their free time, but he was also not one to stand idly and be judged.

Let's throw this judgy twat for a loop.

Pinching the special leaves into the cherrywood bowl of his pipe, Storm skipped up the stairs, embracing a stereotypical trope. At the corner landing to the top floor, he spun back to the endowed bitchy housekeeper. He then held the pipe to his lips, extending a middle finger from the off hand. A small white-blue arc popped from the end of his finger, igniting the leaves within the bowl. As the traveler continued up the stairs, he stumbled into the room.

Holy shit, what is this!?

The corners of Storm's vision began to blur as the two familiar faces popped into view. It was Shin, and Josh, or at the very least two forms that had taken on their form at the onset of his hallucination.

The first thing that hit him was the rich scent of fresh wood, which was a very delicious smell indeed. The room he had travelled to through the void of pure wisdom and true enlightenment was only about twelve foot squared but it was paneled in mahogany, furnished with ivory trinkets and finished with golden leaf detailing around the ceiling. A wooden table, on which a tray of refreshments was set, separated Shinsou from none other than Storm Veritas.

Storm Veritas. Why are you here? Shouldn't you be sorting out the cat problem?

Shinsou’s train of thought was interrupted by the wheezing of the other man sat opposite him, Joshua Cronen. Fuck knows at what point the man had got back, but now his demigod's figure seemed to be crammed between the back of the chair and a randomly manifested desk with very little room for manoeuvre. As the Telgradian almost heaved with the symptoms of his journey to true enlightenment, beads of perspiration formed on his rosy skin.

“Guys,” Shinsou said as he poured smelted gold from a jug on the table onto the floor, for no reason whatsoever, “I have a cat problem I need help with.”

It was easy to cut a strong figure whilst sober, but Shinsou could barely even stand up now. Eventually, he cleared his throat and composed himself. Almost instantly his brow relaxed, his eyes steeled and he suddenly made an announcement to the watching men.

“There are fucking cats everywhere. Why aren't you dealing with this shit, man?” Shinsou pointed a finger at Storm, his partner. "They were in my drawers and eating my fucking food".

“You just - what?” The less familiar man turned from where he was studying a painting.

“This guy,” Breaker said, gesturing at Shinsou, “he’s complaining about cats. Wait until he starts seeing the rattlesnakes.” His sharp hazel eyes whipped back toward the salt and pepper sorcerer. “But I recognize you, Storm Veritas. From tales and shared memories. Strike me with one of your thunderbolts, and you’ll meet the true Breaker!”

“Can the true Breaker get me a fucking drink?” Storm demanded. Regardless of where they were previously, all three men were now sat down at the table together. Storm had a drink that had been brought by a server and Breaker had a fresh one since he’d broken his, and Shinsou had a foamy mug of ale which he preferred for some ungodly reason. “House best,” he called it.

“Cats Storm, not squirrels,” Shinsou reminded his partner. Not that kind of partner. “We’re having a cat problem. Didn’t you slay a few felines when they attacked the shores near Gisela?”

“I understand what this is all about.” Breaker said suddenly, sitting upright in his chair. His hazel gaze flickered from one man to the other. “You want me to become a third leader of the Brotherhood, don’t you?”

The question hung in the air as the Castigar commanders considered the sudden proposal. Practically vibrating, Breaker popped another fried mushroom in his mouth and chewed patiently. And quickly. Very very beautifully quickly.

Within the tunnel of his vision, Shinsou began to speak in slow motion.

"Cats, you stupid ass. Need to CLEAN up the Cats!

What? I don't see any goddamned cats around here.

"You don't have any cats, there's only the floor-flame to worry about."

Joshua mentioned a thunderbolt unleashing his power; the power of the smoke bubbled around Storm's brain as he attempted to process the request. He held firm to the arms of the chair he had floated into, marveling at the squishiness of his fingertips as he pressed them into the underside of the wooden arms. Glancing down, the lacquer upon the hardwood continued to bubble and burn, an amazing observation when coupled with no one doing anything about it. Eyelids itchy, he rubbed at his temples as he considered firing a bolt of energy at the Breaker.

"We need to focus on what's real, and forget the goddamned cats, man. It's the f*cking fire that's going to kill us here, if we don't get up and out and hitch a ride out of town. I just need to know I can get out of here any time I want."

Storm stared at the flames about him, realizing with some embarrassment it was the polish that was melting and bubbling atop the wood, but probably not entirely aflame. Screw them, he considered. I may be wrong about the fire but there sure as shit aren't any f*cking cats.

Taking his drink, Storm tossed the mead atop the bubbling hardwood, watching the water splash harmlessly on the ground without slowing the spread of the blaze.